


Saw a Shooting Star and Thought of You

by Lunalove25



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas-y Stuff, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:36:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5775382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunalove25/pseuds/Lunalove25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snow swirled around the streets of Storybrooke exceptionally early that winter. Though part of that was likely Elsa's presence, nobody in town blamed her. They enjoyed the excuse to stay inside with their loved ones. Especially Wendy Darling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saw a Shooting Star and Thought of You

Snow swirled around the streets of Storybrooke exceptionally early that winter. Though part of that was likely Elsa's presence, nobody in town blamed her. They enjoyed the excuse to stay inside with their loved ones. Especially Wendy Darling.

On this particular December night, Wendy was in the process of doing something that she hadn't done in over a century, but now had the chance to thoroughly enjoy – getting ready for Christmas. She hadn't had the chance to do so in over a century, and nothing – not snow, nor sleet, nor an assortment of drunk dwarves – would stop her. Peter, who had been stripped of his magic by a redesigned magic cuff on his forearm before being allowed to remain somewhat free in Storybrooke rather than rotting in a jail cell, had been explicitly warned by her that if he even thought of attempting anything to ruin the holiday, he would suffer the consequences.

Needless to say, he was a bit offended. After all, he was a child at heart (and now, body as well) and he was interested in seeing what was so damn special about this holiday. Though he hadn't gotten much of a look due to his forced job at his son's – oh, sorry, "Mr. Gold's" – shop, he figured that he'd have the chance when he stopped by to visit Wendy.

His visits had a varied reaction in the Darling household, who were now living in a quaint two-story house in Storybrooke. It was right by the mayor's place, which was especially helpful for Wendy as she took time whenever Regina was busy with work and Robin was out hunting to babysit Roland, whom she adored. Michael and John had jobs around town which often necessitated them to work late, but the three of them ate dinner together as frequently as possible. It was generally on those nights that Peter would drop by.

To say that her brothers were completely opposed to the idea of Peter being around her would be the understatement of the millennium. Not that Peter paid them any heed. He came and went when he pleased, showing up right around when the sun set and not leaving until the stars shone in the night sky. Wendy wasn't sure exactly what he hoped to accomplish by upsetting her brothers, but there was nothing she could do to stop him from simply "visiting". She supposed that she could have talked to Emma, who had taken a liking to Wendy, and asked for some sort of order that he not be near her – it wasn't like she didn't have adequate cause – but some reason, now that they were off of Neverland it didn't bother her as much. Maybe it was because she had her brothers, or simply the fact that she wasn't locked in a cage hanging in a tree, but she soon found that she didn't mind the visits if they were at a reasonable hour. She could almost go as far as to say that she enjoyed them.

Almost.

She assumed that Peter enjoyed them because they happened so frequently. And it wasn't a surprise to her on that cold December evening, when Michael and John were out working and she was decorating, that she heard the traditional tapping on the already-unlocked living room window that signaled his arrival. No, he didn't fly in – he climbed. Pixie dust had been kept out of his reach the moment he arrived, safely locked away by Tink and some impressive blood magic by Regina.

Peter skillfully climbed through the window and stood on the hardwood for a moment, watching Wendy as she pretended not to notice his presence. It was a sort of game they had and it was one she enjoyed – taking turns testing the others' limits until their composure dissolved and they were sitting on the carpet, talking. It was strange to say after all that had happened, but Wendy found that she enjoyed their conversations. Without the limitations of Neverland and the respect he had to command from the boys, he was actually quite fun to talk to.

Peter stood leaning against the wall next to the window, which he closed upon entering. He was dressed in a black t-shirt and leather jacket, jeans and hiking boots, which gave him the impression of being a motorcyclist. Wendy, who was in the process of untangling the lights for the tree, was dressed somewhat similarly in jeans and combat boots except that she had a white sweatshirt on. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and Wendy had on a charm bracelet that Tink had given her.

"Peter, what a surprise," she said, not taking her eyes away from the task at hand. "I thought you would be working at this hour."

"You know me," he replied. She could feel the smirk grow on his face. "I've got to have some fun."

"Ah. Of course." She grabbed the stepladder and placed it by the base of the tree, dragging the chain of lights behind her.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she stood on the ladder and started looping the lights through the branches.

"I," Wendy said, "am decorating. Christmas is only a few weeks away, after all."

"I still don't see what the point is."

She finished with the top level of the tree and moved down a bit to start the next. "What do you mean?"

"It's a holiday for someone that was born and died centuries ago," Peter said.

"I could say the same for you," Wendy retorted with a smirk, finally turning from her work and giving him her full attention. He smirked back.

"Clever. But I don't get a holiday."

"No, you don't." She resumed her task at hand and was almost halfway down the tree before she spoke again. "There could be several reasons for that; one of them being the countless people you have killed. Yes, I can definitely imagine the families of the many deceased toasting in your honor before grabbing their pitchforks and torches, screaming for blood. Lovely tradition, really. Could be a yearly thing here. I'll talk to Regina about it next time I go to visit."

Without looking she somehow knew that Peter had moved and was now closer to her. She confirmed her suspicions when she turned and saw that he was no longer at the window and was now sitting lazily on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. She didn't bother reprimanding him for that and just continued to lace the lights through the branches of the tree.

Wendy soon finished the tree and move the stepladder back so she should stand on it and look at her work. "Can you plug in the lights to the wall?" she asked, and she heard him mutter something before standing and doing what she requested. The lights were a brilliant white, not blinding but still very pretty, and they sparkled and shone against the metallic surfaces of some of the ornaments. Wendy was very pleased with her work.

"Lovely. Thank you, Peter," she said, smiling to herself. She thought she heard a "you're welcome" but decided not to comment on it. Wow, she thought, now I understand why people call them fairy lights. They look so similar.

"You're right, they do," a voice behind her said, causing Wendy to squeak in surprise as she realized that she'd said it out loud and lose her footing. Her foot slipped and she fell off to the stepladder, only to fall into a pair of arms ready to catch her. "You alright?" Peter asked. She nodded, her face turning a bright shade of pink. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

Wendy was about to assure him that she was fine when they heard the door unlock and she realized that her brothers were home. Peter must have realized the same thing because he quickly set her down and went back to his place on the couch, feet on the coffee table as usual. Wendy scrambled backwards and put the stepladder back in its place and stood back up as Michael and John walked in.

"Michael! John!" Wendy said with a smile. "I'm so glad you're home." She hugged them and then took their hands and led them into the living room. "Look at the tree! Isn't it nice?"

John smiled. "It's lovely, Wendy." Then he turned and saw Peter. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm –" Peter started to say but Wendy interrupted him.

"He was helping me decorate," she said. Peter quickly got the idea and nodded. Michael and John seemed to buy it. Wendy figured that it would be better to get him out of there before her brothers started asking more questions, so she glanced at the clock and said, "Oh, damn! I'm late to look after Roland!" In reality she still had another half an hour before she was due there.

"I'll walk you there," Peter said, and they quickly gathered her things and Wendy put on her coat before they left. She could feel her brothers' eyes on them as they went out the door but they didn't say anything.

After they were outside and the door was closed, he turned to her. "That was a brilliant lie."

She smiled. "Thank you. It's not a total lie – I do have to look after Roland today."

Unless Wendy was mistaken, Peter had a look of disappointment on his face. "Right now?"

"No," she giggled. It was highly amusing to see him like that. "I've got a half an hour."

"In that case," he said, a small smirk appearing on his face as he offered her his arm, "join me at Granny's?"

Wendy took his arm. "I can't think of anything else I'd rather do," she said with a smile. She knew she'd get some weird looks, particularly from Tink, but at the moment she couldn't bring herself to care. She was happy, and she'd be damned if she let anyone else dictate to her what that meant.

Now she understood why Christmas was called the Season of Miracles.


End file.
